


Hope Out of Time

by radioactive_lipstick



Category: The Walking Dead & Related Fandoms, The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fallout, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Fallout 4 AU, M/M, Mentions of Slavery, Rick is former military, Slow Burn Daryl Dixon/Rick Grimes, post apocalyptic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-17
Updated: 2016-06-05
Packaged: 2018-05-21 05:47:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6040519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/radioactive_lipstick/pseuds/radioactive_lipstick
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick Grimes has to find his kidnapped son in a future he was definitely not prepared for.   </p><p>-TWD Characters in Fallout 4 AU-</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. How Quickly the World Ends

**Author's Note:**

> Hello dear reader, this is the first fanfic I've shared with the world so any comments and constructive criticism are welcome. You can also let me know about any typos and ponctuation mistakes.  
> This fic combines the characters from my favorite TV series The Walking Dead and the amazing world of Bethesda's Fallout video game series (drawing heavily on the early events of Fallout 4 and it's locations). Characters from Fallout 4 will be referred to but will not be active participants of the story.

-October 23rd 2077-

The newscaster on Rick's black and white television was reading updates of a war that Rick Grimes knew way too well. Rick spent all night preparing for his speech for the Veteran's Hall. Combined with yet another night of Carl, his 3 months old son, resisting sleep training, made him appreciate the hot cup of coffee brewed by his recently acquired Mister Handy robot butler so much more. Now that the robot took care of most of the household chores his wife, Lori, with ample time on her hands, was much happier.

"You're going to knock them dead at the Veterans' Hall tonight, hon." she said earlier caressing his dark curly hair while he was brushing his teeth. Her encouragement meant a lot to him since they've been through some trying times during their relationship. She was in the nursery, trying to pacify Carl, who awoke when a Vault-Tec rep knocked at their door a few minutes prior. Rick was annoyed by the disturbance but at least the rep was there to give him some good news.

The whole Grimes family, butler robot excluded, was accepted as residents of the local underground Fallout shelter in case of nuclear war. Vault 111 was built on top of the hill behind Sanctuary Hills, a beautiful town on a small island, north of Boston, filled with modern houses, meticulously tended green lawns and white picket fences. Lori had been nagging Rick that she wanted to start a family in a quiet town just like this one ever since they got married. Living in a tiny one bedroom apartment in Boston was not a great place to raise a child. Moving to the outskirts of the city wasn't a bad plan so Rick went along with it even as they lost part of their income due to Lori switching from lawyer to housewife. It even allowed them to get a dog, a long time dream of Rick's, though the German Shepherd ran away a week prior and Rick had no luck trying to find him. Despite that he was in a good mood, it was a beautiful day outside, he had a beautiful wife, a healthy son and their acceptance into the vault and their home's proximity to it gave him peace of mind. He was ready for giving tonight's speech although perhaps it needed some more readjustments...

Suddenly, the monotone voice of the newscaster turned to panic as he double checked the update he had just received bringing Rick out of his thoughts into a state of alertness. Atomic bombs were falling like rain on several cities of the United States. New York was gone. Rick didn't wait for the panicked newscaster to finish his list of now doomed cities. He knew Boston could be next.

“Lori! Take Carl, we have to go NOW!”

Lori, rushed out of the nursery, Carl wrapped in blanket in her arms. Rick rushed her out the door, his survival instincts kicking in. There was no time to pack.

Out the door, over the wooden bridge, up the hill, passed the gates of the shelter guarded by Vault-Tec staff, ignoring all the commotion caused by their neighbors and the Vault-Tec rep who were refused entry.

They ran onto an elevator platform where a select few of their panicked neighbors who were also lucky enough to get on Vault-Tec's short list were already awaiting to descend to safety. People cried out in terror as they heard an explosion. A mushroom cloud was forming in the distance. The platform began to descend in time for them to avoid being hit by a wave of dust formed by the explosion. Once at the bottom, the Grimes were greeted by personnel in lab coats and armed security who verified their identities. The lab workers quickly handed them a vault suit to each and rushed them forward into the cold metallic corridors of the shelter. Rick had no problem with uniforms, the army made sure of that, but the suits were of a cheerful blue color with yellow lining and the number 111 on the back, skin tight, manufactured from sturdy material. They were made to last decades. The 'skin tight' part bothered him slightly. Decades, that's how long they will live in this metallic maze of corridors wearing these ridiculous suits, never seeing the light of day, Rick realized as they passed by a man in a lab coat trying to console on of the crying neighbors who seemed to have trouble dealing with the news that all her loved ones left on the surface are probably dead. Suddenly everything didn't seem so bad. Carl may grow up without remembering what the sky looks like but at least they were all alive, together. A family. 

They entered a large well lit room full of standing metal pods with tubes coming out of them, as the people who arrived here earlier were settling themselves into the pods, some already locked into them, looking out at the Grimes family through the small glass windows in the pod's door. As they were asked to change into the suits and proceed into the pods for mass decontamination, Carl started crying. Rick helped Lori calm him down with a kiss on his forehead.

“Daddy's here, I love you, everything’s gonna be fine” he told his son. Lori smiled and eventually so did Carl. 

They entered two pods that were facing each other. Lori was holding Carl in her arms since there were no child sized decontamination chambers. She smiled and waved at Rick from her pod. Rick was about to wave back but the temperature in the pod suddenly started plummeting, and frost was forming on the glass window. He could see the panic in his wife's eyes but there was nothing he could do. He couldn't move, every breath was more painful than the last, filling his lungs with ice, his vision blurred and then everything went dark.


	2. 210 Years Later

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everything was supposed to go according to Daryl's plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Read these notes if you're unfamiliar with the world in the Fallout games. -  
> Caps - Bottle caps are used as currency in the Fallout world. Pre-war currency is pretty much worthless unless you wanna wipe your butt with it.  
> Brahmin - Mutated cows. They grew an extra head. Often used by caravans to transport bags of supply.  
> Raiders - Gangs of ruthless violent scum. Will most likely try to kill anyone in their way and hang their bodies to mark their camp's territory.  
> Slavers - Raiders who buy and sell slaves.  
> Rad-Away - Medicine that removes radiation poisoning.  
> Super mutants - Science gone wrong. Pretty much look like the Hulk. Think they're superior to humans but they're really dumb and violent. Will try to insult you before they eat you.  
> Ghouls - Humans severely damaged by radiation , kinda look like zombies, not easy on the eyes, but still human. Also, they don't age so they're pretty much immortal.  
> Feral ghouls - Ghouls that lost every ounce of their humanity. They move fast and emit radiation. Will attack anything on sight except other ghouls.

-In the woods around Sanctuary Hills, about 210 years later-

Handcuffed around a tree and surrounded by a group of sleeping slavers, Daryl Dixon sighed as the first morning rays of sunlight touched his face. Today might be the day his carefully thought out plan finally fails. Numerous time he was sold into slavery, a common practice in the cruel world he lived in but it has been a long time since he felt fear in the presence of such dangerous people. 

The first time he had been just a terrified kid. His father, in a drunken stupor, sold him to some passing slavers for 100 caps and a bottle of moonshine. Outraged, his mother has mustered all her strength to defy her drunk, violent husband and went to steal Daryl back from the slavers the same day. She got shot in the process but managed to get him home safely. She succumbed to her injuries a few days later. Daryl blamed himself for her death. His father blamed him too. That day Daryl took the first beating from which his mother shielded him for years. The abuse kept going until once again drunk Mr. Dixon used his youngest son as currency, this time he gave him away to a slaver’s caravan to pay for his gambling debt. At that time Daryl was in his late teens, strong and easy on the eyes, and covered his father's large debt in full. Luck was on Daryl’s side once again since the same night the caravan stopped at a bar where Merle Dixon, his runaway older brother, and the group of raiders he was hanging with were drinking their pillaged money away. Upon recognizing his baby brother tied behind one of the two-headed brahmins, Merle quickly found a way to spark animosity between the raiders and the members of the slavers caravan. Once a fight broke out, he snuck his baby brother away. 

Since then they solely depended on each other to survive in the Commonwealth, never returning to their ancestral home and their abusive father. They survived by hunting, stealing and scavenging for a few months but that left them unable to afford a roof over their head. Every night they had to find shelter in pre-war ruins, sleeping with one eye open, afraid to become some hellish creature's meal. People were not the only danger in the Commonwealth. Feral ghouls, super mutants and a multitude of mutated animals often preyed on those who weren’t careful enough. 

Hiding out from a radioactive thunderstorm under a leaking roof, hungry, sick with radiation poisoning and unable to afford any food or Rad-Away, Daryl thought of a dangerous plan. His brother had to sell him into slavery.

The combination of Daryl’s good looks and Merle’s silver tongue got him a good sum, Merle gave away some homemade nightcap concoction claiming they're bottles of booze to sweeten the deal. Then, without being noticed he would follow Daryl. He was afraid the plan wouldn't work but as they expected, most slavers were notorious alcoholics and drug addicts and would consume the nightcap the first chance they got. Merle would then free his brother and both of them stole as much supplies they could carry. 

With the caps they earned from selling the stolen supplies they rented a room in a small guarded community on the outskirts of Diamond City formerly known as Boston. Every time they ran out of money they had to repeat the plan, with each time his confidence grew until he was no longer afraid. He trusted his brother wholeheartedly and the plan was foolproof. Until today. 

Hours have passed since the last slaver standing on guard duty took a sip of the nightcap and fell asleep next to the campfire. Anytime now Merle were to crawl out of the bushes to free his brother and they would have enough loot and caps to live a comfortable life for a few months. Except no one came to Daryl’s rescue that night. The sun rose and Daryl was once again afraid. 

He wondered what could have delayed his brother for so long, he could not have lost him while tracking the caravan, both of them were experienced trackers. Someone must have gotten in his way or he might have gotten hurt. Surely his brother wouldn’t betray him. Daryl refused to believe it. Merle had to do a lot of backstabbing to survive but he would never betray his brother. He convinced himself Merle had to be in trouble and this time it was his job to get out of this situation so he could find and rescue his big brother. He was the only person he could still call family in this dangerous and cruel world.

Daryl jumped back to his senses as he noticed movement in the nearby bushes. It was definitely not Merle. Someone was trying to crawl by the camp unnoticed. That someone was in a shiny blue skin tight bodysuit and doing a really bad job in the stealth department. What the hell was this guy doing in the Commonwealth dressed like that? He was the flashiest thing Daryl has ever seen besides the crazy guy in town who always wore a combination of a bright shirt a neon summer shorts, but that guy was protected by the community guards, turrets and tall fences and this idiot was out here where he can be spotted by everyone in the vicinity. The idiot was a sniper’s ideal target. Unfortunately this idiot was Daryl’s only chance to get the hell away from the slavers before they woke up so he had to act fast.

“Hey! Hey you! The blue idiot in the bushes! I see you! Dude, help me out here. I’ll owe you one!”

Daryl never had a way with words. Perhaps insulting the guy was not the best way to get his attention but it was too late. 

The stranger looked around assessing his surroundings, and crawled closer to Daryl. Once they were face to face he stared directly down in Daryl’s sky blue eyes with his own and blurted out “Have you seen people in hazmat suits... people with a baby... around here?” while grabbing Daryl’s collar, not out of anger but out of desperation. This man lost someone, Daryl could use that to his advantage.

“Look man, I’m a damn good tracker, I can follow their trail. I can find anyone and anything around here, free me and I’ll help you find them. I swear! That guy near the fire has the key.” 

Daryl shook his handcuffs just loud enough to make the stranger realize that he’s not just hugging a tree out of his own free will. 

Blue nodded, turned around and crawled to the snoring slaver guard, exposing his blue light reflecting behind to Daryl. He almost didn’t notice the 111 on his back while staring at the shiny butt. A vault dweller? Daryl sighed. No wonder he was so bad at sneaking. This guy will get himself killed before he’ll be able to find anyone in the Commonwealth. Looks like Daryl had to keep his promise at least for a little bit. 

The stranger crawled back with some keys and proceeded to look for the correct one for Daryl’s shackles. After a few attempts he was successful.

“You better hope these assholes have some spare clothes or you’ll have to undress one of ‘em. Ya can’t keep walking around looking like... well... this.” He gestured at the flashy blue outfit.

Daryl picked up the shackles and cuffed two sleeping slavers together. He picked up a rope and threw it at the vault dweller. “Tie the rest of ‘em while I dig in” he said and pointed in the direction of several bags of supplies laying on the ground. 

Daryl dug into one of the bags, quietly pocketing some ammo and a pipe pistol. Daryl hated violence but he had to be armed to find his brother. He then pulled out a dirty military uniform out the bag and held them out to the vault dweller. The man didn't notice, he was looking in the direction of the ruins of a small town across the river. 

“Hey man, put these on quickly and lets get outta here.” Daryl rushed him. 

The vault dweller tore his gaze away from the ruins and took the clothes. The rubbed off name tag on the uniform seemed to have caught his eye. He passed his thumb on the unreadable letters and proceeded to put the uniform on over his vault suit while Daryl continued pocketing loot from the supply bags.  
“Rick Grimes. My name is Rick Grimes” the stranger suddenly said more to himself than to Daryl, as if finally remembering who he is. He then turned to Daryl, with a look of determination and ordered “You. You're gonna help me find my son,” and pointed the sleeping guard's shotgun right at Daryl's face.


	3. Footprints

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Intrusive memories take over Rick's mind as he leads Daryl through Sanctuary Hills.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Vocabulary for those who are not familiar with the world of Fallout-
> 
> Pip-Boy - A palm sized portable computer that attaches to the user's wrist. It can be used as a Geiger counter, radio, map, holotape reader, evaluate the user's health or simply serve as a flashlight. In Fallout 4 the Pip-Boy can be used to open Vault doors by plunging a part of it into the door's console.

Rick was having trouble accepting that this was reality. He was trying to keep his mind from wandering to all the horrors he has witnessed in the past couple of days. He had awoken from cryogenic sleep just to witness his life being torn apart right in front of his eyes. Lori’s last moments crept into Rick’s thoughts.

_Back in the vault, Rick’s eyes opened in the freezing cold. It hurt to breathe, it hurt to move. Little did he know, what he was about to witness will hurt more than anything he had ever felt in his life._

_A rough looking man with an eye patch on his right eye and several people in hazmat suits were opening his wife’s pod as she and Carl were slowly waking up. The man was armed. They were not Vault-Tec. They were trying to take Carl from Lori’s arms. She was afraid. She wouldn’t let go of her son. She tried her best to fight them off._

_Rick tried pushing the door but it was locked. He banged his fists on the glass window but it wouldn’t break. He screamed but they would not pay any attention to him._

_Without a moment of hesitation, the mercenary pulled out a gun and shot her. She stopped moving and fell back into her pod. One of the people in hazmat suit took Carl and was carrying the crying baby away from Rick’s view. The mercenary closed the door to Lori’s pod, sealing her body inside. He walked up to Rick’s pod, looked in with a wicked grin on his face and said “At least we still have the backup,” as Rick was once again falling into cryogenic sleep._

_In what felt like seconds, he awoke again. He pushed open the door to his pod. It was unlocked. He fell to the ground, limbs still frozen and barely functioning, crawled to Lori’s pod and opened it. In tears, he shook his wife’s frozen body, begging her to wake up but she was long gone. He looked around, screamed for help just to hear his voice echoing back to him. Panicked, he looked for any living soul in the vault but the place was deserted. He was surrounded by the corpses of his neighbors locked tight in their ice coffins. The vault was abandoned by most of Vault-Tec’s crew as the decayed bodies of others lay on the floor. The only living things he found where roaches, they were as big as cats, some of them with an ominous radioactive green glow, and they tried to attack him. Rick could not believe his eyes. What was going on? Was this a nightmare? Was he going to wake up to Carl crying and get pushed off the bed by Lori to go check on him? No. This was reality. Rick’s whole body still hurt from being frozen, but he was definitely awake. This was Rick’s new reality. He had to go after the people who took Carl and murdered his wife, he had to make them pay. He rushed to the exit where he powered on the elevating platform with a Pip-boy he tore off one of the skeletons and ascended into the light of day._

That’s how he ended up where he was now, walking uphill, shotgun in hand, finger on the trigger, pushing the first person he talked to after leaving the vault with the barrel of his gun. They walked through the ruins of Sanctuary Hills, past the houses Rick frantically searched the day before just to find nothing but the rusty pieces of Rick’s loyal robot butler on what used to be his kitchen’s floor and more aggressive giant roaches. The roaches took over every house in town. Rick had to fight them off with a baseball bat. Rick soon realized that people posed more of a threat to him than roaches. That evening he heard voices but his instincts told him to watch before he approached them and his instincts were once again right. He watched as a group of men dressed in ragged clothes and leathers gunned down a stranger and his dog right at the edge of town. They quickly looted the body and disappeared into the woods, pulling a man in shackles behind them. He followed behind in hopes of overhearing something he can use to find his son or at least civilization but all he heard overnight was slurred speech and off key singing as the men drank around the campfire, ignoring their captive.

Rick wanted to sneak away at first light but the captive called out to him. Once he unlocked his shackles, the man under a guise of getting Rick less noticeable clothes, pocketed a gun. Rick noticed it out of the corner of his eye and had to act fast. Perhaps this man wasn’t any better than those who had him chained but after having a shotgun pointed at his face and his hidden weapon taken away, the man who reluctantly introduced himself as Daryl didn’t lie about one thing. He obviously has knowledge of this new world that Rick lacked. Knowledge that Rick needed to find his son. He also claimed to know how to track people and first thing Rick decided to do was put it to the test.

He had to bring Daryl to where his nightmarish life started. He brought him to the vault. They stopped on top of the hill, next to the elevator platform.

“The people I need to find, they had to come out of here. Track them,” Rick commanded.

Daryl sighed and started carefully looking around.

“The only footprints I see are yours. No one else has been here in ages. Oh, and you tripped over there too,” he pointed, mockingly, at some hand prints left in the dirt along the path.

Daryl was right. There was no sign of anyone coming out of here recently and Rick did trip and fall on his way down, this guy is observant, Rick noted to himself. 

“Then they must have gotten out some other way. You’re gonna have a look inside,” Rick said and pushed Daryl onto the platform. He started the platform and jumped on it as it was taking them down into the mass grave that Vault 111 has become.


	4. Shared Experiences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is forced to discover what secrets lay in Vault 111.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Vocabulary for those unfamiliar with the Fallout world-  
> Radroaches- Remember those giant roaches Rich fought in the previous chapter? That's what they're called by the locals.  
> Cram- What cans of Spam are called in Fallout. (I totally forgot it was called that and had to edit the chapter. Oops.)

It was Daryl’s first time inside a vault. He had heard stories of the existence of such underground shelters where people have found treasures and the horrors could be lurking within. Several vaults in the Commonwealth were know to have become home for groups of raiders and were to be avoided, while Vault 81 was rumored to be fully operational, housing a community of lifelong vault dwellers, whom rarely had contact with the outside world.

Daryl wondered what he will find when the lift will come to a halt. The quality of air got worse the deeper they went. He could smell a strong stench of mold and decay. Skeletons were lying on the floor among recently killed radroaches. Daryl stepped off the lift slowly and looked around. He had a feeling that there was no treasure or monsters in this vault. The only sounds he could hear were of dripping water and the buzzing of a faulty fluorescent light. This place made his skin crawl. He hated it already. 

“See anything?” Rick asked from behind him.

“What am I even supposed to be looking for? I’ve never been in a place like this before. Everything’s metal, you can’t leave footprints on metal!” Daryl retorted.

“Look harder! There has to be another exit. Those bastards couldn’t walk through walls! Hurry up!” Rick pushed him with the gun again. Daryl was sick and tired of being treated like his bitch but he had no choice but to obey. Daryl’s only way back out was Rick’s Pip-Boy, without it the elevator won’t start. Unless he finds that hidden passage and slips away before Rick can notice.

“Will you cut that shit out? Fine! Stay here. I’m gonna look for your damn hidden passage!” he barked back at Rick and walked away mumbling “I ain’t nobody’s bitch,” under his breath.

He found himself standing in a cafeteria big enough for a dozen people. It was looted clean. Whoever lived here must have taken all the supplies with them on their way out. Daryl looked for secret buttons or levers but all he found was a 200 year old can of Cram behind a fridge. Some pre-war food was still edible due to the extreme amounts of preservatives packed into them. It may be stale but it was still food. Daryl pocketed it, he was starving but had no time for a snack. He needed to find the way out as soon as possible.

Searching the other rooms resulted in more disappointment but Daryl found out that the vault’s plumbing system was still running perfectly. The water was rads-free and crystal clear. Drinking clean water was a luxury in the Commonwealth. This meant that this vault was not used long enough to run out of clean water filters. It’s residents must not have stuck around for long. The overseer’s room was picked clean too, except for a fancy high-tech looking gun in an unbreakable glass case mounted on a wall.

Daryl booted up the overseer’s computer terminal, surprisingly it wasn’t password protected or he wouldn’t have any idea how to hack it. He read through the text files available. They described the gun as a freezing weapon of some sort and spoke of Vault 111’s research on freezing unsuspecting people in cryogenic sleep. The overseer’s personal memos spoke of rebellion among the staff, long past the expected end date of their experiment. No mention of a second exit anywhere.

He wished he had some bobby pins to try and pick the lock on the glass case. He pictured freezing Rick’s sorry ass with that gun, stealing his Pip-Boy and getting the hell out of this place. He’d even get frozen Rick out too, he didn’t want him to die of starvation, without a way back out. Daryl didn’t want to harm him, in fact he didn’t want to harm anyone unless he had no other choice. He hated violence and all the harm it caused him, his family and every single person he met in this shitty world. Everything wrong with it was a result of violence. Global atomic war started it all, according to the stories told by ghouls, who were just regular people before the bombs fell and radiation consumed the land. 

“Found anything?” yelled Rick, his voice echoing in the corridors.

“No!” Daryl yelled back but Rick was already making his way to him, the sound of his footsteps closing in. He appeared in the doorway, his face covered in sweat, he looked distraught. Clearly he didn’t want to be here either but had to persevere for the sake of his son. For a second, Daryl envied the kidnapped boy. His father was the complete opposite of Rick. He wouldn’t have lifted a finger if either of his sons got taken. Daryl just couldn’t bring himself to hate Rick, even after being threatened with a gun and pushed around by him. Rick never actually hurt him like others would have by now. Slavers enjoyed roughing up their captives and Daryl was used to pain. Besides, Merle would beat the shit out of them if he found someone lay a hand on his brother. He’d probably kill them too, if Daryl didn’t stop him every time.

Daryl walked out of the overseer’s room, past Rick, further into the vault. He could feel Rick’s eyes watching him as he walked, stepping in puddles along the way. The water flooding the corridor was coming from one of the last rooms. The room was full of metal pods, each with a corpse inside. It stank of death. He couldn’t see any sign of a secret passage in it either. Rick stayed behind, he looked more nervous than before. Daryl figured Rick had to be one of Vault-Tec’s unwilling test subjects, abandoned and left to die.

“Nothing here either,” he notified Rick on his way out. The last room looked identical to the previous one but Daryl could see that two of the pods at the far end were open wide. He walked closer.

One was empty and the one facing it contained a corpse. A woman, young and pretty, with a gunshot wound to the abdomen. She must not have been dead for long, judging by the lack of decay. Daryl watched as a radroach was trying to crawl up into the pod.

“No!” yelled Rick from behind him. He came running into the room, pushing Daryl out of his way. He emptied his gun on the roach and kicked it away so hard it splattered on the wall, dropping the shotgun and fell to his knees in front of the woman. He took her hand, tears rolling down his cheeks, he started apologizing to her. Apologizing that he failed her, that he couldn’t find Carl and he didn’t know what to do next. “It should have been me,” he kept repeating. Daryl noticed the matching rings. Not only Rick’s son was missing but the man had recently lost his wife. 

Daryl gave Rick some privacy and time to calm down. He looked around the room. As he expected, there was no sign of any hidden exit there either. Whoever took Rick’s baby had to have left through the same way they came in. Daryl didn’t know how they managed to conceal their footprints or why would they even bother. Why would anyone steal a baby, anyway? How did they know the baby was there in the first place? 

Daryl walked back to Rick, who’s crying and screaming had now been reduced to quiet sobbing and sat down next to the broken man.

“Hey, I’m sorry, man,” he said in a quiet voice, “there’s only one way out of here. Unless, you count death.” Rick lifted his head, he looked exhausted. Daryl instantly regretted mentioning death to a man who was holding hands with his dead wife. He had to give him some hope, after all his son might actually be in danger and he couldn’t let a parent give up on his child because of him.

“Look, there’s not many babies around these days, someone had to see him. People in hazmat suits aren’t that common either. We can ask around but you have to get up and we have to get out of here. Maybe my brother can help you, he knows a lot of people and many ways to get them to talk but first we gotta find him ‘cause I think he’s in trouble. He was supposed to come free me but he didn’t show up and, well, you did.”

Rick gave Daryl a small nod and stood up. Either this man was never planning on giving up on his child or Daryl’s pathetic attempt of giving him hope worked.

Daryl watched as Rick positioned his wife’s body in the pod, crossing her arms on her chest, gently, he took off her wedding ring and put it in his pocket.

“Don’t worry, Lori,” he said, taking one last look at her face “I’ll find Carl. I’ll never stop looking,” and lowered the door, safely locking her in her metal coffin for her final sleep.

“Fine, let’s help each other, looks like you’re in as much trouble as I am. I help you find your brother but you have to keep your promise” Rick said and left the room. Daryl followed. 

“Deal. Hey, what about the shotgun?” Daryl asked.

“Why? Do you want me to push you around some more? I thought you said you’re nobody’s bitch,” Rick said with a hint of a smile.

“Fine, forget it. I thought you could sell it for a few caps, that’s all...” 

“Caps?” Rick inquired and Daryl knew he had to share his knowledge with the man if he wanted this partnership to work. Rick had to have his back. Daryl wouldn’t stop talking while they were going up the lift. Rick kept listening, wide eyed as Daryl gave him every piece of information he needed to know to survive. The sun was setting when they reached the surface.

Daryl suggested to get shelter in Sanctuary Hills for the night. There was no point looking for anyone in the dark. Rick agreed and pointed to one of the houses.

“There. I live there,” he frowned and corrected himself, “I used to live there. Before the bomb fell. How long has it been?”

“Uh... 200 years give or take.” Daryl replied, leaving Rick speechless for the rest of the walk.

\---------------------

Rick’s house was a mess. His mattress was missing along with many other belongings. Wooden furniture has rotted and collapsed and someone had left half melted candles on the window sills.

“Shit, I haven’t slept or eaten anything for two days,” Rick realized and took a look in his empty cupboards. “Damn it! Looks like whoever squatted here ate all my things too.” 

Daryl reached into his pocket and pulled out the can of Cram.

“All I got is this.” He opened the can, scooped some of the food out with his fingers and put it in his mouth. He then offered the can to Rick.

“Ugh, is that even still good?” Rick said in disgust.

“Depends on what you consider good,” Daryl replied with a smile. “I found it in the vault, it shouldn’t have any rads to make you sick. That’s better than good by my standards.”

“I mean isn’t this stuff rotten? It’s 200 years old, for God’s sake!”

“Nah, it’s just kinda tasteless and stale,” Daryl shrugged.

“Fine,” Rick said and accepted the can. It was better than nothing. 

They quietly ate their dinner under the starry sky. Their sole source of light: moonlight coming through a hole in the partially collapsed ceiling. 

“You should get better standards,” mumbled Rick. He falling asleep on his couch. 

“I’ll take first watch,” offered Daryl. Rick nodded, he handed him back the confiscated pipe gun and fell asleep.


	5. Synths and Sinners

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the first time, Daryl tracks his brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet nobody noticed but I changed the fic's rating to Explicit instead of mature, mainly because of the amount of death and gore.  
> This chapter's Fallout vocabulary lesson:  
> Stimpak - A healing drug in form of a syringe. In the game it just magically heals your health points and broken limbs. I decided to make it a temporary fix for the sake of an illusion of realism in this fic.  
> Anyway I would love to read your comments and I appreciate all the kudos! Hope you enjoy!

A chilly wind blew, picking up the dust from the cracked pavement. Rick shivered. He woke from a nightmare earlier and was still covered in cold sweat. Once again, his worst fears haunted him in his sleep. He couldn’t bare dealing with more nightmares so he offered Daryl, who was still slightly weary of him, to switch places. After a few minutes of convincing the tracker that, he too, had to get some rest, Daryl recurrently agreed.

He stood on guard in silence, outside the remnants of his home, while Daryl slept indoors, curled into fetal position on Rick’s moldy couch. Rick was grateful that the tracker stayed. After all the aggression he had subjected Daryl to, Rick would not have blamed him if he fled during the night. Rick regretted losing control like he did. Daryl turning out to be a good person made him feel ashamed of his actions even more. He wanted to avoid spiraling back into mindless fight mode at all cost. It took him months of therapy and medication to get back to being a functioning member of society after being discharged from the military. Somehow, he doubted he’d ever meet a shrink again so he had to rely on what he had learned from the last one. He had to set himself achievable goals to avoid being overwhelmed, so here it was his first goal of the day: keeping the tracker safe until morning.

Boredom got the better of him and by the time the sunrise crept up the horizon, Rick was passing time by poking around the options on his Pip-Boy. The item was highly publicized but hard to obtain during his time, unless you worked for Vault-Tec. His curiosity peeked when he discovered the radio section wasn’t empty. The Pip-Boy identified a signal from Classical Radio and Diamond City Radio. Certain that classical music would cause him to fall asleep on guard duty, Rick turned on Diamond City Radio.

“...orning! You’re listening to DJ Eugene Porter... At least I hope you’re actually listening,” a nervous voice spoke out of the Pip-Boy’s speaker. “Um, coming to you directly from The Green... No... The Great Green Jewel of the Commonwealth! Let’s just get to the morning news... At least I hope they’re considered as news...”

Eugene seemed to have dropped his notes because all Rick could hear for a while were the sounds of crumpling paper and the DJ mumbling insults at himself. 

“Another group of Mojave slavers has been found dead by a local scavenger,” he eventually read. “He was selling their stuff at the market, when I, uh, overheard him so this story is actually verified, sort of. Apparently they were all tied with ropes and wild mongrels ate them... It’s the fourth time this year. I don’t know about you, but I think that’s just honky dory that someone’s, you know, making them pay. I mean, do any of you mind a few more dead slavers? ‘Cause I sure don’t...”

“Oh, great! They’re dead and I didn’t even have to lift a finger!” Daryl exclaimed from inside the house. “Now shut that shit off! We gotta get going.”

Daryl walked out of the house, his hand covering his eyes from the rays of sunlight emerging from the horizon.

“You could have woken me up the old fashioned way,” Daryl complained. “Anything’s better than hearing that guy first thing in the morning.”

“Sorry... I didn’t mean to wake you up,” Rick apologized.

“Whatever. Are you ready to go?” Daryl asked impatiently.

“Yeah, I guess,” Rick said and stood up. “Nothing left for me here...”

\-------------------

Daryl was trying to get used to being the one in charge. Merle was always the leader. He was used to following in his big brother’s footsteps. Whether it was hunting, looking for someone new to scam or just picking a place to stay the night in, Merle always led the way.

He was backtracking the exact path the slavers dragged him through, attempting to find a sign of where Merle veered off behind them. They walked past a Red Rocket gas station where stray dog was cheerfully devouring it’s recently killed prey and sneaked around the outskirts of the town of Quincy where gunfire was heard among the loud roars of an unknown predator. 

When the sun hung directly above their heads, their shadows shrunken beneath them as if they were in hiding, Daryl finally found signs of a struggle in the uniform level decay his eyes were so used to. Scuffle marks on the concrete and broken branches in the bushes led him believe he might be on his brother’s tracks. Rick was wondering why the tracker stopped so abruptly, he didn’t notice anything out of place in their decrepit surroundings and was staring quizzically at Daryl.

“Two people fought here,” he explained while pointing at the scuffle marks. “They fell into the bushes there,” he pointed to the side of the road with his other hand, “and that’s where we need to go.” Daryl took out his gun and they followed the trail of broken branches, leading them into the woods.

As the two sets of jumbled footprints became one and a trail of drag marks stained with blood began, Daryl began to fear for the worst. The bloody trail led them to a wooden cabin, it’s windows boarded so they couldn’t look inside. 

Daryl stealthily walked up to the door, it was cracked open. He pushed it open gasped. It was dark but he could see a body lying on the ground, in a puddle of blood. The person was beaten up badly but Daryl could tell it was Merle... He rushed to his brother’s side, knelt next to him and looked for a pulse...

“Baby brother?” A raspy voice came from a dark corner of the room and made Daryl turn his head in surprise. “Took your sweet ass time to get here!”

It was Merle. He was sitting on the floor, holding a rag drenched in blood over his wrist next to a rusty machete covered in blood.

Daryl could not believe his eyes, here was his brother, dead on the floor and there he was also, alive, lecturing him about being late.

“Merle? What the hell? Who the fuck’s this then?”

“Boy, have I got a story to tell you,” said Merle, mischievously smiling through the pain.

\-------------------

Daryl spent the next ten minutes picking the lock on the cabin’s MedKit while Merle bragged about taking down his doppelganger. He wondered why the pre-war asshole living here locked the damn thing in the first place.

“I noticed someone’s following me so I turn around to confront him and this synth freak has my face,” Merle exclaimed, “so we fight and the bastard knocks me out. Next thing I know, I’m in here and he’s stealing my pocket watch. So I look around and there’s this thing just laying there,” he nods in the direction of the machete. “Bastard went down fighting,” Merle said showing Daryl his mutilated hand, revealing a long, deep cut from the middle of his palm to his wrist, it was still bleeding and the skin around it was red and inflamed. It was obvious to Daryl that his brother needed medical attention.

Merle was convinced the man who stalked him was a synth sent by the Institute to take his place. Up until now, Daryl never believed the Institute actually existed since no one had ever found where it was. His mom used to tell him a synth would come to replace him with a good boy if he didn’t do all his chores. He thought they were just stories that all Commonwealth parents used to scare their kids into behaving, but seeing an exact replica of his brother laying dead on the floor made him realize that synths actually existed and they could be anyone.

“Why would they try to take you?” Daryl asked after finally managing to unlock the kit.

“Maybe they want to learn which brain cells are the secret to my charming personality? Maybe I just won the god damn lottery and first prize is a magical “Get killed by your brand new clone” package? How the fuck should I know?”

Daryl rolled his eyes and stabbed his brother in the arm with a Stimpak syringe, injecting him with the medicine.

“This should slow down the bleeding and give you enough energy to get back home. You better pray Hershel will accept another IOU ‘cause I ain’t got no caps to pay for his services,” he told his brother as he helped him get up.

“You can always bribe him with booze. I got vodka stashed under my mattress,” Merle suggested and leaned on his brother for support. 

“Asshole, you know he’s three months sober.”

“Need help?” Rick offered when the brothers exited the cabin.

“We’re fine,” growled Merle and rushed Daryl to help him walk faster.

Once back on the road, Merle turned to Daryl and whispered in his ear. “Why the hell is G.I. Joe still following us?”

“I owe him my freedom ‘cause you didn’t show up.”

“More shit to blame on the Institute then. Can you pay him back with vodka?”


	6. Bunker Hill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally an update! Sorry it took so long.   
> I'll give you 10 internet points if you can spot the borderlands reference lol 
> 
> This chapter's Fallout glossary   
> Molerats: Picture a combination of a mole and a rat and make it the size of a medium dog.   
> Yao Guai : Mutated black bear.   
> Deathclaw: HUGE lizard like creature with powerful claws. Rumored to have mutated from chameleons, some possess the ability to blend with their surroundings.

They made their way to the outskirts of a town where buildings stood empty and crumbling like dried eggshells in the heat of the evening sun, maneuvering their way between rusted remnant of automobiles left on the highway, possessions that people from Rick’s time were once proud to own. He tailed behind the brothers, far enough to not eavesdrop on their casual word exchanges that became quieter and more infrequent as the day went by. Daryl would seldom look behind him to make sure Rick was still there and he’d give a nod of acknowledgment in Rick’s way once in awhile, glad to have someone to keep an eye out for danger while he tended to his injured brother. The effects of the Stimpak were wearing off gradually and Daryl was struggling to keep Merle on his feet and walking straight. Rick had to intervene despites Merle’s cursing and protests when they both almost toppled over into a ditch by the side of the road. Daryl was exhausted and silently welcomed Rick’s assistance. 

“We’re almost there,” he said, pointing in the direction of a grey obelisk towering over the town in the distance, Bunker Hill Monument. “Merle, we’re almost home.”

Merle stopped complaining about Rick’s involvement in his rescue when they reached the vicinity of the monument where a tall wall built from salvaged scrap stood to Bunker Hill’s defense. He had lost consciousness just when they reached it’s gates. They got Merle up the stairs and Daryl kicked the gates several times.

“Raider or caravan?” asked a man’s voice from behind the gates. 

“Daryl! It’s just Daryl and Merle, we’re back,” Daryl answered back to the guard and the gates opened, letting all three of them in.

They dragged Merle’s unconscious body to a shack marked “DOCTOR/VET” where Daryl pleaded an old man named Hershel to take his brother in despites their lack of money until he gave in, telling Daryl he owed him a favor. 

Hershel kicked both men out of his shack while he examined his new patient. Daryl sat down and started biting on his thumb, a nervous habit he couldn’t quite kick much like smoking stale pre-war cigarettes. It gave him peace of mind when things spiraled out of his control. 

“So about the dead guy in the shack? He’s from the Institute? Who are they? Why’d he look exactly like your brother?” Rick finally asked and sat down next to Daryl, breaking the awkward silence between them.

“To me they were a scary story, until now,” Daryl responded. “No one knows who or where they are but I guess they’re real after all. I’ve been told they make these machines, synths, that look like people but… In the shack, that was no machine, it bled, Rick, machines don’t bleed. They wanted to replace my brother. That’s so fucking messed up.” 

Daryl was rattled, he buried his face in his hands. If they succeeded, he would now be at the mercy of an imposter. Would he have noticed something’s wrong? That Merle was different or would he have shrugged it all off and continued following him blindly because he was all he had? 

He felt an arm wrap around him and lifted his head abruptly. Rick was looking into the distance but his arm was pulling Daryl into a comforting embrace. For a second Daryl let himself get scooped into the hug, letting himself be comforted but the butterflies in his stomach made him dart up. Why’d he just let someone touch him? Why’d he trust him so much? It didn’t make any sense. Nothing made sense anymore.

“Go to the market,” Daryl barked out, pointing to the white building with the tall columns, ”ask for Dale, he’s in charge of the caravan merchants, if someone has seen your kid, he’d know. I’ll go hunt something to eat. Need to clear my head...” 

He walked up to a water pump and put this whole head under the cold water, cooling himself down and drinking from it simultaneously, his long dirty hair now soaking wet. “I’ll be back,” he told Rick and went to his shack, retrieving a crossbow and leaving through the gate as Rick watched him, wide eyed.

Dale turned out to be an old man in a bucket hat, he sympathized with Rick but even the man who is in charge of the whole town, whose employees traveled between all the remaining settlements in the Commonwealth, he knew nothing of a kidnapped baby. He promised that he would inform all his caravaners to keep an eye out for Carl and offered Rick to stay in town in exchange for some guard shifts on the wall. 

“I’ll think about it,” Rick replied, shaking the man’s hand before he walked out. 

He asked around the bar and the guards on duty on the walls just in case but just like Dale, no one knew anything. He walked around the settlement, familiarizing himself with his surroundings; it seemed safe enough. Its residents grew crops next to their shacks and water pumps provided clean water from deep under the earth. A brahmin grazed some yellowing grass in an enclosure. There was a market, a bar, an inn, Hershel’s clinic, a couple of outhouses marked “dook hut” in chalk in a child’s handwriting and a public shower which was just a water pump with a hose connected to it, enclosed in 3 walls and a shower curtain. There was a fire pit and there were cooking tools and dishes scattered all around it; the settlers of this town didn’t seem to mind sharing with their neighbors. The town was illuminated with hanging lights, the electrical wires led to what seemed like the market’s cellar. The town was simple, safe, Rick could start a new life here but he couldn’t just stop looking for Carl, he had to be out there.

\----------------------

Daryl once again announced himself at the gates. He walked in with two dead molerats hanging from his belt and made his way to cook them at the fire pit when he noticed the local gay couple gawking in the direction of the showers. Daryl considered Aaron and Eric his friends so he approached them silently and put a hand on each of their shoulders making them jump in surprise.

“What ya lookin’ at?” He asked playfully, taking a look in the same direction but they didn’t have to answer, he noticed right away. The military uniform he gave Rick was hanging on a rope, drying in the last remnants to the evening sunlight and there was Rick himself, the top of his vault suit pulled down to his waist, exposing his muscular torso. He was pumping water onto himself in the shower, the curtain left a large enough crack for people to see what was going on inside if they stood at the right angle. 

“Perverts,” Daryl said after biting his lower lip, resisting his own urge to keep watching Rick shower. 

“Hey Daryl, didn’t know you were back. How’d your mission go? Got lots of loot?” Asked Aaron, trying not to make a big deal of being caught as a peeping tom while his partner blushed from embarrassment. 

“No, got nothing, ran into some complications,” he replied, nodding in the direction of the showers. “C’mon,” he pushed them forward the fire pit, “stop staring and help me out.” 

He threw one of the molerats at Eric and he caught it. “Fine but you’re telling us more about your complications there,” Eric agreed and pointed forward the showers with the knife he just picked up and proceeded to skin the prey while Daryl worked on the second one.

“Don’t know much about him. He’s a vault dweller, he was frozen somehow in the vault, from before the bombs,” Daryl admitted, sparing them the tragic part of Rick’s story.

“That’s insane! How’d you bump into him?” Asked Aaron.

“He freed me from the slavers, Merle didn’t show up, we had to go find him,” Daryl threw the edible pieces of meat into a kettle and Aaron added some vegetables from the nearby garden and hung it over the fire.

“Wait, where is he?” Asked Eric, looking concerned.

“Hershel’s,” Daryl said, looking into the fire.

“Shit! He got hurt? Did he fight a Yao Guai? Deathclaw?” Aaron asked, dumbfounded. Merle was known as a badass in town, people believed he was almost indestructible after witnessing him come almost unscratched from bar fights where the numbers weren’t in his favor.

“Synth, he fought a synth, they’re real,” Daryl answered, looking Aaron dead in the eyes, to show he’s serious. The men stared at him back in disbelief.   
It got dark and Rick came to join them to sit near the fire. Much to everyone’s dismay he pulled his vault suit back up. The shiny fabric was it was made of was water resistant and already looked almost dry in the light of the fire while Rick’s curls were soaking wet, drops of water falling from them. 

“You’re back, how did the hunt go?” He asked Daryl. 

“He got you some molerats,” Eric answered in Daryl’s stead, with a beaming smile, earning a concerned stare from Aaron. Daryl just nodded silently. 

“I’m not even gonna ask what that is, I’m starving,” Rick confessed, looking into the kettle suspiciously. He didn’t want the idea of what a molerat looks like to deter him from eating the meal. 

“We got guard duty,” said Aaron, he stood up and grabbed his partner by the shirt, dragging him away. Eric still seemed too smitten by Rick’s physique to leave but he waved them goodbye, reluctantly. “We’ll leave you and your complications alone. Give our best to Merle.” 

Once again, Rick and Daryl were alone, engulfed in an awkward silence broken only by the crackling of the fire and the stew boiling in the kettle. This time Daryl decided to break it.

“Did Dale know anything?” He asked. 

“No, nothing, but he promised his people will keep an eye out for Carl,” Rick said, wiping some water off his neck with his hand. 

“He’s a good guy, trustworthy,” Daryl said. He stood up and took the kettle off the fire and stirred it a bit with a long wooden spoon. He filled three bowls with stew and took one in his hand. “I’ll go check on Merle,“ he said, “maybe Hershel will take this as payment. I hate owing things to people,” and he walked away, disappearing into the doctor’s shack. 

A minute had passed while Rick kept himself warm next to the fire, stirring his bowl of stew in hope of cooling it down faster to a temperature his mouth could tolerate when yelling came from Hershel’s shack. Rick got to his feet and ran to find Daryl panicking inside, yelling at Hershel who seemed relatively unrattled by the younger man. 

“What do you mean you had to amputate his hand?” Daryl yelled and waved his hands in the air. “How’s he gonna fight without it? How’s he gonna hunt?” 

“Daryl, I had no choice, the infection would have spread and killed him,” calmly explained Hershel, “he’ll just have to adapt when he wakes up.”   
Daryl paced around the room with his hands behind his head, frowning intensively.

“There’s nothing you can do for him right now, Daryl, go get some rest. I’ll come find you when he wakes up,” Herschel reassured him. Daryl growled and stomped his way out, Rick following at his heels. 

Daryl made his way to the fire, rising a cloud of dust as he kicked at the ground a couple of times along the way. Channeling this anger into the soil was as good of a release as any, Rick thought.

“Merle was always the strong one,” Daryl spoke in a broken voice, “and now he might not be anymore. I don’t know what it’ll do to him.”

“At least he’ll live to find out, thanks to you,” Rick comforted him, “now lets eat, I’m dying to know if that molerat of yours taste as bad as it’s name sounds.”

“Worse,” Daryl replied with a hint of a smile, “and thanks.”


	7. Bunkers and Badasses

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After 2 months of hiatus, this fic lives!

Rick could see the moon shine through a hole in the ceiling. This was becoming a pattern, why nobody on this side of the nuclear war never bothered to patch leaky roofs was beyond him. Daryl offered him to stay in their shack for the night and left for guard duty, since he could no longer afford to pay rent with caps, he thought he would make up for it with hours of labor.

“It’s not much but it’s home,” said the archer before he strode away, holding his crossbow over his shoulder.

Nothing among this mess screamed like home for Rick, Daryl really should heighten his standards. It was a wooden shack with a metal roof, meddled with rusted holes everywhere. The walls looked they were hammered together by a twelve year old with bad hand to eye coordination and a shortage of nails. Inside was an oil lantern and two bare mattresses, stained by time and substances Rick refused to think about. Clothes were thrown over the floor and the pillows were just burlow sacks full of dry grass. Rick sighed, it hit him how rough Daryl’s life actually was. To be sold to scum over and over again, just to keep paying rent for this dump because it provided him the security of armed guards and a tall fence so he could sleep at night. It pained Rick that the world never recovered from what his generation and the ones before him had done to it.

He settled on one of the half rotten mattresses, his back hitting a bump from underneath that turned out to be Merle’s half empty bottle of vodka. Rick tossed it aside and went to sleep, exhausted by the long day of endless walking. It was Carl’s crying that haunted his dreams this time.

\-----------------------

“We’re not doing this anymore,” Daryl’s voice echoed through the settlement in the early hours of the morning.

Rick opened his eyes, awakened by the commotion. He pulled himself up from the stained, bare mattress he spent the night on and opened the door to look outside. 

“We got no caps left! We have no choice,” Merle yelled back at his brother, shaking his bandaged stump in the air, “I can’t even hold a gun like this. We can’t even pay rent with guard duty if I can’t hold a damn gun.” 

“I can’t. If Rick didn’t show up I’d be on my way to becoming a New Vegas sex slave by now and you’d probably be dead,” Daryl argued, “the plan failed. I’m not going to risk it again. Forget it. We’ll find another way. I’ll go salvaging or something.” 

“No way I’m letting you go out there alone. You’d die out there,” Merle yelled, gaining the attention of residents that came to gawk at the commotion. 

“He’s not gonna be alone,” Rick intervened, “I’ll go with him.”

“Mind explaining me who the fuck you are and where you came from?” asked Merle.

“Rick Grimes, U.S. Navy Marine, 3rd Power Armor division,” Rick declared instinctively, taking and gave a somewhat sarcastic salute in Merle’s direction. 

He had no idea what pushed him to defend Daryl in front of his brother in such a public display but it was true. Rick didn’t intend sticking around town for long, if Daryl was to leave, he’d follow because being out there was the best chance of finding his son even if he didn’t know where to begin looking. He had a certain fondness for the younger man too. He couldn’t place the source of it’s roots yet but it was there. Maybe it was his humanity that was somehow left intact amongst the depravity of this world that made Rick feel like Daryl was worth protecting at all cost. Maybe it was his forgiveness that sparked Rick to make up for the way he treated him when they first met. Rick wasn’t sure just yet…

Merle snorted, he looked like he was about to spew a whirlwind of insults in Rick’s way but a flame bursting through the air caught everyone’s attention.

“Quiet!” yelled a woman, her short, silver hair sparkling in the sunlight. Forehead covered by sweat and soot, eyebrows furrowed in frustration, she came to Daryl’s defense. 

“You in trouble again, Pookie?” she asked petting Daryl’s head, having thrown her flamethrower aside. 

“Mommy!” shouted a little excited voice and a little girl came running and crashing into a hug with the elated woman. 

“What’s going on here?” she demanded to know.

“Who’s that?” asked Rick turning to Aaron who came out of his hut during the commotion.

“Carol the Firestarter,” he answered, rubbing his eyes. “Even think about hurting anyone she cares about and she turns you to into roast while you sleep.”

“Duly noted,” was the only thing Rick could reply to that.

“Merle’s lost his hand and he’s not letting me go scavenging without him,” Daryl explained, trying to keep it as brief as he could. 

“Did you punch a mirelurk in the face and got snapped or something?” she mocked Merle, “let him do as he please, he can handle himself.” 

“It’s that guy I don’t want going with him,” Merle growled gesturing at Rick with his remaining thumb. “Besides you don’t have any weapons besides your bow. How’s he gonna have your back?” 

“We got a pipe gun, that should be okay,” Daryl shrugged. He was probably wrong, it had only a handful of bullets and would sooner deplete them all then hit it’s target at more than five feet away.

Rick suddenly remembered his training days in a bunker not too far from here. Surely it had to have some ammunition left in it. He hoped his credentials were still in its automated system and that it was still functional. 

“Daryl, I have a new plan for you,” he proposed, “one that doesn’t involve your brother or anyone else in that matter.” He looked around at the crowd with distaste. Daryl got the message and came to join him, leaving the accumulated crowd to start dispersing behind them. Merle gestured an _I’m watching you_ at Rick and walked away with Carol and her daughter in the bar’s direction.

“What you got?” Daryl asked when they we’re out of everybody’s earshot. 

“I may know a place where there might be weapons, not far, it used to be secure. Problem is I don’t know if it still stands, it’s a bunker a few miles to the north of here.” 

Daryl nodded. “Yeah I know of it, people do go there, there’s turrets that shoot on sight.”

“That’s good. Means it’s still active. If I’m still in the database, it should recognize me and let me in. Wanna risk it, going there?”

“These days, even taking a piss in the bushes is a risk,” Daryl groaned, “this is an opportunity.”

\---------------------

“Well, I got one bullet left,” Rick announced after they encountered a few acid spitting bloatflies, “this trip better pay off or we might not survive the way back.”

“I still got plenty of arrows,” Daryl mocked, pulling them out of the insect corpses. Rick was impressed how swiftly Daryl could draw, aim and fire his crossbow, hitting each target straight in between the eyes. He wielded his weapon like it was an art. 

“You hunt often?” Rick asked. 

“Yeah, when there’s nothing to eat and that’s almost every day.” He picked a fruit off of a nearby bush and bit into it, it’s juices squirting all over the place. “Also gather these, mutfruit,” he added, “they’re useful. I always sell out at the market.” He put some fruits into the bag they brought along for the weapons. 

“Useful how? To make jam?” Rick inquired.

“Yeah, that too, and you can use the juice for, you know, _stuff_ ,” Daryl did a crude gesture with his fingers and blushed.

Rick grimaced. Humanity has resorted to using viscous fruit juice as lube. What a time to be alive.

They sneaked their way to the bunker and Rick, taking a leap of faith, walked to it’s fortified door and gazed into the sensors. The turrets didn’t budge. 

“Awesome,” Daryl yelled from the bushes he was hiding in. “Now what?”

“Sit tight,” Rick yelled back, “I’m gonna try deactivating the system.” 

The bunker welcomed Rick into its four walls and he delved to the computer terminal. His login worked. He navigated through the options. Turrets off. Open armory. “Daryl?” he called out, “you much do you think you can carry?”

\---------------------

“Here. Happy?” Daryl dropped bagfuls of weapons and ammo at Merle’s feet. “You got Rick to thank for this.”

Inebriated, thanks to his IOU tab at the bar, Merle slurred his words and paid it in full with a box of 10mm ammo. 

“Fine,” he told Rick, “you can look after my baby brother but if he gets hurt I’mma find ya, cut off yer balls and feed ‘em to a Yao Guai. Kapeesh?” 

“You better remember what you just said in the morning,” Daryl growled. 

Carol’s little girl ran up to Daryl and tugged on his shirt. “Mommy wants to see you,” she said and led him away. 

Daryl found Carol at her shack, meticulously watering her her crops. She smiled to him. 

“Pookie, I heard your friend’s story from Dale. I think I know how to help him. Diamond City has a detective. If you need someone found, he’s your guy.” 

Relief washed over Daryl’s face. A detective. That was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a short chapter but it will set things in motion. Get ready for some Rickyl bonding in the ruins of Boston!


End file.
